


Toujours avec le couer

by TheNextPage



Series: Draxlembe / The PSG Prompt Page [1]
Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Football | Soccer, M/M, Paris Saint-Germain F.C., draxlembe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-13 16:53:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16022051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNextPage/pseuds/TheNextPage
Summary: A collection of prompt-fills and ficlets featuring these two precious lads.





	1. The bus

**Author's Note:**

> So i asked normalplaces over on tumblr for some prompts to write for these two precious smol beans. 
> 
> She gave me three. This is the first part of the first one #Falling Asleep
> 
> This is a snapshot of the times Drax and Presko fall asleep on each other. Starting on the bus...

I. They were on their way back across the country after an invigorating performance against SC Bastia. It had been a rout against the minnows, but it was a welcome regroup before some tricky Champions League games. 

The team had hurried from their locker room, spending long moments meeting and greeting the travelling fans and the young kids who were excited to see Mbappe and Neymar up close. They all finally managed to extricate themselves from the never-ending wave of fans held back by security barriers and hopped onto the bus headed for the airport. It was a short enough ride to the airport, and the noise levels on the bus would have made it impossible for anyone to sleep.

Anyone except Kimpembe. Smiling and effervescent as always, he stood at the front of the bus, scanning the seats looking for his travelling partner. He spotted him and scampered down the aisle until he sat down on top of Julian.

“I like the window seat. You know.” He started wriggling in Julian’s lap. “My seat, yes?!”

Julian all the while guffawed, tickling the man squirming in his lap. “You are a child. A large, loud child!”

He struggled to remove his friend who had now started a conversation two rows down with his teammates.

“Kim, stand up so I can move!”

“I thought we were going to share. But fine, I can.” Kimpembe finally rose, allowing Julian to slide over into the next seat. “You can have the window seat on the plane Babe.”

“So I can freeze! Oh ok then.” Julian lightly punched his Kim in the shoulder.

Slowly and by degrees, everyone piled on and found a seat, settling in for the trip through the beautiful, now-sleepy town steeped in history. Julian replaced his AirPods and pressed play, casting a glance over his teammates inside the bus and then out the window beyond Kimpembe to see the stadium fall away from their view.

Kimpembe stretched and yawned, before turning to find Julian looking at him, or possible the view outside. 

“Beautiful huh!” He remarked casually, slipping his AirPods in.

Julian nodded, agreeing with a bright smile. He blushed and looked away.

 

And in the next moment, he felt Kimpembe’s head come to rest on his shoulder. 

“Yes?”

“My pillow.” Kim attempted to pat Julian with his eyes closed, his hands making contact around Julian’s chest.

“The airport is 20minutes away…” Julian was smiling broadly, entirely enjoying Kim’s hand still resting over his heart.

“Then ssshhh.” His eyes closed, his breathing slowed and he fell asleep.

Julian, moving slowly so as not to wake his Kim, took out his phone and snapped a quick selfie. He sent the text directly to Kim before saving it to his encrypted, biometric protected iCloud album then deleting the photo from his phone. Kim would see it when they got to the airport. Julian was most pleased with the caption he had used:  
#ToujoursAvecLeCoeur


	2. The plane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drax and Presko, falling asleep...

II. They had all clambered out the bus and into the airport – the energy still high but the mood mellowing out. It had been a long day. And they still had to make their way from the airport back home. Thankfully, they had the next day off to fully rest before training resumed.

Kimpembe had been gently shaken awake as the bus pulled up to the airport by Julian, who had waited for the last possible moment to disturb his sleep.

“I’m awake Babe.”

 

They piled into the plane, collapsing into the plush seats and waiting for take-off. True to his word, his Kim walked down the aisle and waited for him to slide in to the window seat. They settled in, buckled up and waited for take-off.

The air stewards ran through the safety instructions and emergency drills, unheard by the team as everyone slipped into their flight routines: Julian’s routine was AirPods in and blanket up to his chest. His Kim beside him preferred Beats headphones with a sweater on and his blanket over his lap.

“How long is the flight?” Julian asked, unlacing his shoes to get more comfortable.

“Just over an hour Jule. You can sleep. I’ll wake you up.” He patted his cheek gently.

Julian rolled his eyes. “I can stay awake for an hour.”

“Sure Babe.”

When asked, Kimpembe would describe the way his Jules fell asleep like a dog: a large, quiet and entirely lovable dog. He would nose around a little, making low murmuring sounds. Then he would burrow into his Kim’s side. And snuggle a little bit more. After a bit of re-adjusting – Kim would need to find an angle to enfold Julian’s additional 4cm of height – he would settle. And Kim would lean his head over, placing a little kiss on his forehead.

 

“Babe,” Kim rocked his Drax gently. “Wake up, we’re gonna land soon.”

Jules opened his eyes slowly, to see big brown eyes looking down at him. The smile across his face was automatic: the heart fluttering and warm butterflies were always there when Kim was around.

“Good sleep?”

Jules righted himself, picking up his AirPods which had fallen out whilst he slept. He yawned, stretched again and wiggled his toes. “Yeah, it was a good sleep.”

“Sweet dreams?” Kim smirked at him as if he knew something he wasn’t saying.

“Pretty sweet, yeah!” Jule replied, starting to blush because that was another automatic reaction around his Kim.

“Yeah?” Kim was about to start laughing from the smile that was lighting up his entire face.

“Yeah.” Jule was now starting to get nervous. “Why are you asking like that? What’s so funny?”

Kim smiled, biting his lip and looking away. Leaning back towards Jule, he brought his lips close to his ear before whispering, “You were saying my name.”

The ‘FASTEN SEATBELTS’ light came on.     


	3. The Awards Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drax and Presko... falling asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapters are stand-alone or else loosely connected. This happens at in indeterminate time.

III. They were suited and booted. It was a flashy night to honour the people around the PSG organisation. It was a good way to give back to the admin, support and technical staff who didn’t get much limelight in the general every day of the club.  
It wasn’t going to be a long ceremony, but it was going to be a heartfelt and sincere thanks for all the staff who allowed the players to train in pristine grounds, enjoyed nutritious varied meals and were taken care of after every training session for every bump, scratch and strain. 

“Looking good Presko!” Jules clapped his friend across the back, impressed by his black suit with a grey and blue paisley lining.

“Yeah, thanks Bro. Looking good too. I like your suit, Hugo Boss huh?!”

Julian beamed back, nodding. “But of course!”

They hugged in greeting, before drawing apart and walking in to the auditorium. 

 

Taking a seat, they flipped through the program of the evenings proceedings. Soon the president stepped onto the stage and welcomed everyone gathered.

And the ceremony commenced, and proceeded and then it carried on until it started to drag. To his credit, Jules tried to stay awake. But somewhere between honouring the grounds support staff and naming each of the kitchen staff by turn, he lost the fight to stay awake. 

He slumped a little in his chair, his arm nudging Presko’s on the dividing armrest between them.

Turning to Jules, Presko blew a whisper at him. Jules leaned into the gust of warm air, lulled further into drowsiness. He turned and wholly stared at Presko, before nudging him with his nose as if trying to get his attention. Presko suppressed a laugh, tilting his head away. Jules rested his chin on Presko’s shoulder as if waiting for his full attention before he started to speak.  
Presko grinned, whispering a ‘Ssshhh,’ whilst still facing the stage. But Jules didn’t have anything to say, eventually laying his head on Presko’s shoulder. He exhaled slowly, before closing his eyes as Presko whispered for his hearing only, “Mon petit.”


	4. The Briefing Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drax and Presko, falling asleep...

IV. The game against Red Star Belgrade was coming and the team was hyped. They knew the game against the Serbians would be a more physical encounter and so they had added more strength and resistance training. At the end of a long week of 9am to 2pm sessions, followed by an extra hour lifting weights, doing pilates and yoga to keep flexible then watching tape and breaking down specific areas for each player to focus on, it had been a long week. 

At the last training session of the week, they were huddled in the AV room, watching highlight tape of the last 10games Red Star played. 

Kim had moved Moting from his seat so he could be next to Jule, even though the other centre-backs were sitting together, swapping notes about the strikers and attacking wings who could prove to be problematic. Halfway into the briefing, Kim didn’t even try stifle a yawn. Drax cast a glance in his direction, to admonish him with a haughty ‘tut tut tut’. But then he saw the genuine weariness around Kim’s eyes and he had to stop himself from reaching out to soothe some of that tiredness away.

Kim turned to look at Drax then, and in that moment, they were caught in this quiet bubble of looking at each other: taking in features and angles they saw daily but never tired of seeing. Drax was mesmerised by Kim’s lips: full, kissable lips always smiling at him. Kim couldn’t stop staring at Drax’s dark brown eyes; they spoke a desire not yet articulated.

Leaning over, he whispered into Drax ear “Babe your eyes…” Drax eyes lit up, intrigued as to how that sentence would end. 

Presko looked at Jules’ lips for a moment, licking his own, before looking him in the eye again, a gentle smile back on his face. His mouth opened, then closed again, words failing him.

“I’ll tell you one day.” Before he rested his head in the gentle nook under Drax chin and closed his eyes.


	5. The Hotel Room

V. They had arrived two nights before the game against Liverpool to acclimate to the British north-west and the frigid temperatures. They arrived at their hotel and immediately made their way to their allocated rooms.

Jules was carefully folding his clothes into the drawers whilst Pres was singing to himself in the mirror after his shower.

“You going to shower?” Pres dripped from the bathroom, a towel wrapped in a gravity-defying fashion around his hips

Jules assessed him from head to toe first, as if to say something about his dripping water onto the plush carpets But then he finally tore his eyes away, inhaled deeply as he re-folded two pairs of pants before shaking his head in a bid to chase away unwanted thoughts, before answering. 

“Yeah, I’m going to shower.” 

 

Jules was preceded by a fragrant cloud of warm mist as he exited the bathroom, his woollen pyjama pants already on, ready for bed. The lights were mostly out except for one bedside lamp that set a calm ambience in the shared room.

“Pres, you already asleep mon gar?”

Jules didn’t receive a reply. He turned the corner towards the bedroom and realized Pres was lying in his bed.

“What’s going on? Why are you in my bed?”

Jules stood at the foot of the bed, looking down at his teammate who had commandeered his bed.

“Mine’s wet.” Pres barely shrugged, sitting up. “Which side do you want? Left or right?”

“Wait… wet? How? Did you…” he trailed off, rolling his eyes to see a sodden towel on the bed.

“Pres!”

“I prefer the left. But I’m easy. Pick a side Jules!”

Resigned, Jules pointed to the right side of the bed. Pres scooted over to the left. Without getting off the bed, he manoeuvred himself under the covers and pulled back the covers over the right side, inviting Jues to snuggle in.

Jules walked over and crawled into the bed. He didn’t ask before he reached out and switched off the lights. An expectant silence settled between then, before Pres quietly said, “Bon nuit Jules.” 

Jules murmured a ‘bon nuit mon pote’ in return before turning over a bit, trying to find the perfect position. He stilled for a moment, before tossing and turning again. He lay still, sighed for a moment, then recommenced his search for the elusive perfect position. 

“Juuuulllllleeeessss” Pres whined under the covers.

“Pardonne, I just can’t…”

Before he could finish his sentence, Pres had dragged him into the centre of the bed. He pulled at arms and legs, re-aligning them until he had insinuated himself beneath Jules: the left half of his body warmed underneath Jules skin with the left half of Jules draped over his own body. Jules was instantly relaxed and melded into Pres beneath him, hiking up his left leg to Pres’ hip, his left arm carding through Pres hair on the pillow beneath them.  
Pres exhaled contentedly, wriggling his left arm free to curl around Jules shoulder, his right hand resting lightly on Jules leg over his hip. His fingers freely traced the soft firm lines of his skin, skimming over the waist of Jules pants, occasionally daring to slide under the elastic seam to trace more skin.

“Pres…” Jules whispered directly onto Pres’ collarbone, where his head lay with his eyes closed. He rolled his hips once, gratified by the sharp intake of breath from Pres’. He planted his lips on the warm skin directly beneath his lips and allowed them to linger there, unmoving but warm and present.

Pres resumed his careless exploration of Jules’ skin at his waist. “Mine,” he whispered into Jules hair.

“What’s yours Pres?” Their voices were low, intimate murmurs.

“Tout de vous.”

They fell asleep, entwined in each other.


	6. Drax' Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Drax room...sleeping together

VI. Drax had been subbed on at 80’. He tried to make a difference, he felt he had. Kylian’s strike allowed them all to exhale a sigh of relief: wrestling a draw away from Anfield was not too bad a start. But then Firmino popped up with that wonder strike, at the death. And truly, what the hell could be done about that? At that moment? In front of that crowd? 

Julian, as always, was never satisfied with having only been subbed on so late in the game. He did not want to a be a super-sub. Sure, he could grow into the role, but he knew he had more to offer starting. But then he would need to be a more enticing offer than Cavani. His teammate was a phenom but…

Presnel flicked his ear. “Stop thinking. Just watching you makes me so tired. We regroup the day after tomorrow. For now…” he nudged him with his shoulder, “we just go home and chill.”

Julian grinned tightly. His friend was right. Of course he was right. But he had had a great game. He was a starter. A newly-minted World Cup winner… the world was literally at his feet. Him though… on the eve of 25 and his national coach...

“No Babe, stop this.” Presko stopped right in front of Julian, arresting his walking. “I’ve been talking to you. Did you even hear me?” 

Julian rolled his eyes playfully, feigning disinterest in having to prove himself. “Of course I did. I can think and listen and walk Presko. We already know I’m more intelligent.” Jules winked then.

“Fine, Mr So Smart, what was I saying?” 

They were waiting for their luggage before they exited from the private airport hangar and made their separate ways home. Julian looked around, desperately hoping his luggage would arrive before he would have to make up some feeble lie.

“You were saying you need a ride home.” He mumbled very quickly.

Pres face remained impassive and unmoving. He rarely ever did: Julian could usually read him easily. “And of course, you wanted to sleep over because it’s late. So you’ll just go home…”

“Stop talking. Your lies are not very good.” Pres stepped forward and picked up his luggage that had finally arrived. He spotted Jules bags and grabbed those up too. “I was saying, you shouldn’t be alone tonight. So you’re coming home with me.”

Jules opened his mouth and closed it a couple of times. “But your Mom is with Kayis… I don’t think…”

“Fine. I come stay with you. You better have PES 2019 and Call of Duty WWII.”

“You know I do.”

 

45minutes after leaving Le Bourget, Jules arrived at his complex. Pulling up to enter through secure parking, he cast a glance at Pres. Pres was not only awake, but looking around casually, taking in the view.

“9th arrondisment. I like it. Do you go out much?”

“It’s nice. Yeah. Quiet. I’m usually busy, you know. But yeah, I’ve seen a few things. It suits me well. And the views are beautiful.” Julian put the car in park and stepped out.

 

The ride in the elevator to Jules penthouse apartment was quiet: Julian unsure of exactly what this evening had in store for them; Presko again, impassive and unreadable.

“Usually you are so full of energy, I can tell exactly what you’re thinking just by looking at you. But this quiet Pres, I don’t know this person. I don’t know what’s going on in your mind.”

Pres turned to him, smiling mysteriously. “You should just ask.”

“Ok, what are you thinking?”

Pres smiled, a genuine smile that Julian recognised, ‘”I am thinking about you.” He held Jules gaze, open and unflinching. “ I am wondering how to help you, to get you… outside your thoughts.”

Pres smirked, a hint of the flirty fun injected in his tone when he said, “I am wondering which of these rooms I’m sleeping in tonight.”

Julian fumbled with his keys at that line. They had arrived on his floor and he was trying to unlock the front door. He coughed slightly, if only to buy himself some time to get the door open and think up a reasonable response. 

“Well...” he drew the word out, trying to steal more moments, “this is a three room apartment. You are the guest, so you get to choose.” 

“And what if I choose your room?” Pres walked in, past the open plan ground floor - and headed up the stairs, following Jules closely to the floor housing the bedrooms .

“Then…” his scarlet blush was mercifully hidden as he arrived at the landing to the first floor, “then you get to decide if you want company or not.” 

 

Jules apartment was beautiful. Taking up the top two floors, he enjoyed the separation of public entertainment space: the spacious living room, an entertainment zone, a library and music room leading to his dining room. On the other side of the entryway, was the kitchen and breakfast nook, leading to the glass-panelled walkway which connected to the dining room.   
Julian had insisted on privacy and a certain amount of seclusion from the other tenants. Despite assurances about the nobility and refinement of the other residents, Julian had been implacably insistent. He was gratified by the private elevator that worked only with his fingerprint and pin and the staircase that ran from reception, parallel to the concierge desk, to his apartment and led out directly to his parking. 

The 2nd floor of the apartment housed the three bedrooms Jules had mentioned. From the landing from the entertainment floor, to the right, facing the streets, were the two guestrooms sharing one and a half bathrooms. Those rooms enjoyed the street view and overlooked the internal courtyard below. The connecting open-air terrace was reached from the hallway door. And Jules master bedroom with the sumptuous en-suite bathroom enjoyed the view of the church and the city beyond. He had an ante-room before his bedroom: he used the interleading space as a mini-study and a final check of his outfit before he left for the day.   
There was a sturdy oak desk in the middle of the room pushed against the wall, a flat screen T.V. mounted opposite the wall to enable Jules to check the news and other worldly goings-on in the morning. The cabinet beneath the T.V. also housed his personalised PS4 and a handful of games he insisted on playing without trekking downstairs and setting up the larger entertainment unit. There was a comfortable leather lounger in the corner, illuminated by a minimalist overhanging lamp. The room was classic and functional, the only touches of personality coming through in the three family pictures Jules had arranged on the desk.

Pres had arrived on the landing and instantly headed left, angling to the master bedroom. Jules followed, pretending to convince himself that Pres was merely going on a walking tour before choosing one of the other guest rooms to sleep in.

“The view is beautiful up here. Don’t the church services wake you up every Sunday?” Pres dropped his bags on the left side of the bed, striding to the floor-to-ceiling windows and pressing his hands against the cool reinforced glass.

“They don’t hold services every Sunday. And thankfully the bells don’t chime every hour – only on special occasions. Then I’m not here anyway so it’s fine.” Jules smiled, leaning into the casual moment, “otherwise, I would have had to break in there and destroy the bell or something.”

The room was understated, muted elegance. The bed was central, literally in the middle of the room facing the expansive view. There were two bedside tables with few personal touches and no lamps. The bathroom and walk-in closet were accessed by two doors behind the bed, effectively screening all that from sight.

“No pictures of the family in here? And no lamps?” Pres had turned from the view outside and was looking at the magazine-ready room, and instantly longed for some personal warmth.

There were delicate in-ceiling lights but they were set to dim. There were no lamps or other light fixtures anywhere else in sight.

“The church is very bright. So when I’m here, I can just lie in bed and enjoy the light from the building and the city outside. I usually come here to sleep, don’t like too many lights before bedtime anyway.  
And photos..” Jules blew a breath from behind closed teeth, “just because they’re not hanging everywhere, doesn’t mean I don’t think about my family. Maybe it’s different, because your family is here. But sometimes…” Julian shrugged, “missing them all the time would not make me very useful here. Does that make sense?”

Pres stepped to him, close – within his personal bubble of space, and flung his arms around him and hugged him tightly. “This is why I am here. You are running around in your thoughts, and I must help you get out and be here, outside.”

“You asked!” There was a smile in Jules reply, as he stood still enfolded in Pres’ warm embrace.

 

An hour later, Pres had showered as Julian had prepared a nightcap. Jules would never admit to agonising over whether he should prepare tumblers of whiskey, cups of chamomile tea or strong coffee from the kitchenette beside the terrace. In the end he poured out two glasses of water, threw in some slices of lemon and strawberries. He had even added sprigs of mint before he took the glasses back to the room. He brushed past Pres on his way to shower, eliciting a mysterious half smile from Pres as their fingers mingled momentarily. Julian was totally overwhelmed at the intricacies of hosting mixed with the proximity of his friend, who’s reserved behaviour was setting him on edge. 

He emerged in pyjama pants and cologne to find Pres sitting in the quiet dim of the room, soft Acid Jazz wafting from the mounted Bose speakers in the corners of the room, the sheer curtains drawn across the windows – the church and radiant city lights coming through in soft echo only.

“I called my Maman, Kayis watched the first 10minutes of the game then fell asleep. Then he woke up when you came on and fell asleep again before the Firmino goal. She sent me a video of him, he has his teddy bear with him, his little world is complete. She says goodnight fil.” 

“Are you sure you don’t want to be home?”   
Pres looked at Julian as he took a seat on the right side of the king-sized bed, crossing his legs. Pres was in Calvin Klein briefs and a white shirt, leaning back on his elbows, legs on the floor. “I’m right where I should be.” His lips were smiling as he said the words, but there was a sincerity and earnestness in his eyes. 

“Why does tonight feel different Presko? Am I just nervous or are you acting different?” Julian fidgeted a bit, reaching for the glass of water on his beside table. He concentrated on the beads of moisture running down the glass around his fingers.

“What feels different?”

“You I think. You’re…quiet. “

“It’s past 1am. We lost our first game, we’re bottom of the group. We just flew back from another country. I’m worried about you. Why would I be laughing now?”

Julian smiled, relieved by the summary of their situation somehow. “So what… you’re just going to distract me by being serious? That will make me less serious?”

Pres sat up, assessing Julian for a moment. “You’re crazy like me. Crazier maybe. And yes, I am here to distract you.” Then he pounced.  
Hands!, tickling him everywhere. Julian prided himself on being fast, but he wasn’t ready. He spilled water on the bed, swallowing a mouthful before he spat out the rest on a squealed chuckle, trying to get away from Pres. But he wasn’t letting him go. Every little patch of skin, every soft spot his hands could reach, Pres was tracing and dragging his fingers over, mock-biting him like he did with Kayis.  
Julian was still trying to stop the glass from spilling and keeping it upright but was laughing too much. And Pres’ warm mouth on him, this teeth grazing his skin lightly was insanely ticklish but also… exciting. Julian poured out the glass of water over Pres, trying to buy some time to get away. The water drenched his hair, matted his shirt down and dribbled over Jules and onto the bed.

“Aaaahhhhh!!!” Pres screamed, rearing back and letting go of Jules for a second, shaking water from his hair. He sat up on the bed and took off his shirt, shaking his head and wiping his face. “Cheater!!”

Jules was on the other side of the room, laughing heartily, unbothered by his own damp state. He was clutching at his sides, doubled over. “I cheat?! Did I start tickling you?” He managed to rasp out, still laughing. Pres sprang from the bed and reached for him, grabbed handfuls of his pants. Julian tried evading his grasp but was still weak from laughing so hard and didn’t back away in time. Pres managed a firmer hold round his middle, lifting him and flinging him back towards the bed. He jumped on top of him directly, continuing to tickle him furiously. “Cheater!! And now the bed is wet!” Pres ducked down and nipped him, small quick bites all over his midsection.

Julian was laughing out loud and thrashing around, trying to fight Pres off him but his efforts were weak and healfhearted. Julian tried to wrap his legs around Pres, intending to flip them over. But Pres was wise to his tricks, and intensified his tickling, blowing bubbles of warm air directly against Jules skin. Julian was undone, kicking his legs around in peals of laughter, playfully batting Pres away from him. But then Pres grabbed his hands, pinned them aside him on the bed, and continued.  
Jules had tears running down his face, his whole body wracked with giggles as Pres finally started to relent. He released Jules pinned hands from the bed, as Jules legs stopped kicking around under Pres but came to rest, bracketing him between Jules legs. Their chests rose and fell as they took deep breaths between their subsiding laughter.

“I think I’m lying on a strawberry… or lemon. Something small and wet,” Julian shrugged, partially trying to roll away from the vague wetness at his back. 

“You and your fancy water…” Pres was now kneeling between Jules legs, resting his elbows on Jules raised knees, his chin propped on his right forearm. “You’re probably lying on your little fruit salad!” 

Jules lay smiling up at Pres, letting the last trickles of laughter settle over him. Breathing deeply, finally calming down, he looked up at Pres and quietly said, “Thanks for being here.”

“I’m right where I should be!” Pres repeated, smiling down at him, holding his gaze for a moment as if imparting something more beyond his words. He offered Jules a hand, helping him sit up.

They sat intimately close, facing each other: Pres was still kneeling between Jules legs, his arms again balanced on his knees. And now Jules was sitting up, facing him in close quarters.

“Presko,”

“Oui Jules,”

“Promise tonight won’t change tomorrow…”

Pres raised an eyebrow in question. “Je n’ai comprends pas. Change how Jules?”

“Promise me we’ll still be… just like this.”

Pres considered leaning forward and kissing him. He wanted to. He was sure Jules wanted him to. He knew Jules had liked it when he bit him, his warm mouth on equally warm skin. Maybe liked it more than he thought he would…more than he thought he should. Pres had liked it too: soft skin over hard lines and firm muscle. And Jules smelled so good. But this wasn’t the time for kissing.

“I love you Jules. That won’t change. Rien.”

“Je t’aime aussi Pres.”

Pres traced Jules lips with thumb, his high cheekbones with exploring fingers until he buried his hand in Jules hair. Jules eyes fell closed, contentment relaxing his features. Pres kissed his briefly: a light press of his lips on Jules cheek before resting Jules head on his shoulder. He wrapped his other arm across Jules back, resting his hand lightly over his shoulder, gently kneading the skin under his fingers. Pres continued the delicate head massage he had started, enjoying the pliability of Jules under his touch.

“You good?” He whispered gently in Jules ear.

“Don’t stop…” Jules reply was a mere murmur, as he burrowed closer to the touch, trying to draw Pres closer. His hands grasped at Pres skin, now bare before him. His touch was light, tentative but entirely yearning.

“Come on, let’s go to bed.” Pres pressed another kiss to Jules cheek, his mouth lingering a moment on his skin as Jules reluctantly nodded, drawing back to allow space between them. Pres disentangled his hand from Jules hair slowly and deliberately, raking the wisps through his fingers. He was slower in dropping his other arm from around Jules, ghosting his fingers over Jules skin before letting him go completely. 

“The bed’s still wet.” Jules shivered with his whole body, instantly missing the touch that had seared onto his skin.

 

They had ripped off the duvet with it’s slices of strawberries and lemons, bruised mint sprigs and wet patches. Jules went to fetch another blanket from his linen closet as Pres went to the bathroom to ensure he didn’t have any fruit in his hair and to dry off properly. Whilst patting the last of the moisture from his hair, he decided to spritz himself with Jules cologne. The scent was intoxicating.

He returned to the room to find Jules flinging the blanket on in a wide arc. They crawled over the cover, not yet feeling the chill of the night air.

“Come,” Pres was scooted to the left of the bed, facing Jules, his arms outstretched.

“You don’t have to…” Julian had analysed, assessed, considered and concluded that he was sailing perilously close to the edge with Pres, and he did not want to jeopardise his friendship for one night. Going to fetch the fresh blanket had been given his intruding thoughts time to come rushing back in at him.   
‘iT fELt NIce, but WhaT HAppeNS IN thE MOrniNG WHEn he lEAVES and yoU’rE still A suPEr SUb aND DoN’T haVE NAtioNal tEAm pROSpecTS? What ArE yoU DoiNG juLeS? iS He yoUR FRieNd OR Are yOu lOOkiNg fOR MoRe? are yOu REAdy TO Be a dad Too? is tHIS goOd Or IS tHIS goOD foR TONighT?’ 

“I leave you for one minute, and you start thinking again.”

Jules wanted to sheepishly protest and deny the pithy truth of the statement, but knew that would be futile.

“Come Jules, rappeles, nothing changes!”

Jules shook his head minutely, entirely unable to silence the stream of questions and recriminations and protests running through his mind. He opened his mouth to protest, but didn’t have the heart to contest what Pres said so ardently.

Pres shook his head, reaching out for Jules. He moved closer to him, until Jules was within arms reach. “Ok, but the bed is still wet that side. So…” Pres shugged,   
“don’t get sick ok.” He outstretched his arms again, wiggling his fingers in invitation. “I think you should come here.” 

Jules wiggled a little closer towards Pres, deciding that there was merit in not getting sick. But once he felt the warmth of Pres’ hands on his skin, his eyes closed and his body melted into the touch.

“Please don’t let tonight change tomorrow Pres. Please…”

“Mon petit, tomorrow is already today.”

 

Jules head lay on Pres’ shoulder, the gentle head massage resumed. Handfuls of skin under Pres other hand were massaged and caressed in turn. Gentle kisses were pressed to Jules’ temple and nose, his cheeks and one simple kiss to his lips. 

Jules hugged Pres to him tightly. Barely daring to move, he breathed in the moment deeply, his thoughts finally quietened down., replaced by a new, hopeful refrain: ‘tomorrow will be better. Tomorrow is already today…’ 


End file.
